The Damned Episode 1: Exodus
by RobertlaMorte
Summary: A Television Series starring Faith, Angel, Willow, Xander, Oz, Wesley and a new character named Robert La Morte. It takes place after the season 4 finale of Angel and the series finale of Buffy. First episode COMPLETE.
1. Teaser

Prologue:  
  
Prague, 1508  
  
The armored rabble assailed the castle, most charging through the gaps in the walls left by the cannons of the besiegers. Arrows, crossbow bolts and musket balls cut a swathe through their numbers, but the survivors charged onward. The attackers wore mail shirts with a surcoat bearing an upside down cross. They were the Order of the Beast, formerly a division of the Teutonic Knights which had turned to evil and become apostates. The shortest of them stood at six feet four inches tall, while the tallest was a seven foot six juggernaut armed with a massive war hammer used to pummel his foes to the ground with a single blow.  
  
The defenders wore either the red or black armor of the Jesuit order and were a collection of Catholic warriors who had been hand-picked by the Pope himself to protect the castle at all costs. However, their numbers were few compared to the onslaught of infidel soldiers, whose ranks were bolstered by demons and vampire allies. Yet, they grimly contested each inch of the ground yielded to their merciless foes, inflicting vast losses. Their commander, a young, dark-haired Italian with an unshaven beard fought ferociously with a falchion and flail, and struck down his opponents with ease. His brown eyes stared into the yellow ones of his next foe, a vampire armed with a saber. The undead creature slashed at him with his blade, which the Italian quickly parried and then bashed the vampire on the head with the flail and promptly decapitated him with the force of the blow. Although no one had bested him, the man knew it would take a miracle to save the beleaguered Jesuits and prevent the Beasts from seizing the precious Key. He fell back to the keep and ran through the door, then down several flights of stairs into the dark and dankly smelling dungeon.  
  
The prisoner stared at his captor with a feeling of intense hatred, since the swarthy inquisitor had been torturing him for at least three years with all manner of fiendish devices. Now, he heard with amazement his captor's desperate appeal for help, which he promptly replied with a loud guffaw.  
  
"Priest, you never had any use for me but torture, so why do you even want my help? Or do you even trust me?"  
  
"La Morte, I apologize for my previous wrongdoings, but I had no way to determine if the ritual had been completed in its original form, and you were a servant of the Beast! Now, will you fight with us and save the world?"  
  
"Looks like I have no choice, priest," replied the emaciated captive.  
  
With considerable trepidation, the commander hesitatingly freed his captive and handed him the captive's bastard sword. The immense blade seemed to flicker a reddish hue when its master seized it.  
  
"Ah- thank you priest, now show me where the Satanists are, and I shall dispense with them," commanded the fiery prisoner, whose unkempt beard and long black hair which cascaded down from his shoulders, to the priest.  
  
Nervous and fearful that the vengeful La Morte would obtain revenge against him, the priest motioned upstairs and the prisoner quickly donned a suit of armor. He charged up the stairs, yelling an inhuman cry in some language unknown to mortal ears while the commander seized an arquebus from the weapons rack, loaded it with great precision, and steadily crept up the staircase, anxiously expecting a horde of demonic soldiers to rush at him and then it would be over.  
  
But his fears never materialized, instead his greatest hopes were. He watched in awe as the black armored man drove the invaders back, slicing his way through their ranks with a glowing red blade. The scythe swept aside any foe, whether knight or demon or vampire and not one successful resisted even the slightest of wounds, for even the foes who escaped with the slightest scratches fell dead soon after.  
  
Finally, the battle rested on one moment as a seven foot two inch man crept forward from the bloodied ranks of the attackers. He doffed his horned helmet and revealed his face, twisted with rage and violence. His name was Sir Hugo Peabody, a disinherited English Duke who had seized control of the Knights of the Beast and transformed the order from an underground society to a disciplined, formidable and ravenous horde in the steps of Russia. His eye fell upon the Key, whose location he had discovered by raiding the churches in Eastern Europe and tormenting the local priests to squeeze whatever information they knew from them. Now, his goal was in sight, for the keep loomed before him and he knew it was only a few steps till he reached the altar which held the Key, and then he could summon the master. Once the master came, it would be paradise for his followers and doom for the pathetic worshippers of the weak and impotent God. But only one resolute defender stood in his path. A man whose eyes glowed the same crimson red hue as his gigantic sword and whose black armor was covered in the blood of his slain foes.  
  
The giant guffawed with laughter and he raised his gargantuan battle axe capable of hewing through a charging knight and his horse in one hand while in the other he carried a long kris, a jagged blade dipped in poison.  
  
"Do you expect to challenge me, La Morte? You're nothing but a pathetic abomination of Angel, Mortal and Demon, how do you expect to defeat Lucifer's personal champion, the scourge of hell, I, Hugo Peabody?" Howled the giant with bursts of laughter and he lumbered towards his foe, swinging both the axe and kris in a fluid motion.  
  
La Morte stepped aside to avoid the blows and swung his sword in a powerful blow which knocked the kris from the giant's hand. The infuriated Knight then sliced upwards using all of his strength. His nimble foe, although standing more than a foot shorter than him, ducked and avoided the sharpened edge. The black armored man then turned his back to the giant, hoping Peabody would take the bait, which the overconfident blackheart did. His scarred face in a sinister smile, Peabody ran towards the retreating La Morte, raising his axe in anticipation to finish the coward who dared resist him. But that chance never came as the black armored man suddenly turned and run up the side of the castle wall parallel to Peabody and laid a powerful kick to the giant's side, forcing him to reel back in pain and breaking the bone. His momentum shattered, the knight stumbled backwards in an awkward fashion, his head raised in time to witness the red blade come crashing down upon him, entering in the front of the face and then exiting in a quick thrust then a second slice cut him into perfect symmetry. The corpse's halves fell in a bloody heap while the victorious La Morte said nothing but instead immediately attacked a group of gaping demons, astonished at their leader's demise.  
  
The few remaining Jesuits and the red robed monks who guarded the Key let out a resounding cheer and fired a volley of missiles into the ranks of their foes, who promptly retreated in complete disorder. Not one survived the bloodlust of La Morte, who hacked his way through the horde, sparing no one and was joined by the castle's commander, who forgot their earlier differences and joined each other in brotherly combat.  
  
It was a great victory for the forces of life, the precious Key had been protected, the vampire and demon strength depleted in Eastern Europe and the dreaded Knights of the Beast decimated. Count Dracula, who had masterminded the attack, fled to the mountains of Translyvania, where he hid and lived a life of fear, always hunted by eager vampire hunters. The slayer failed to reveal herself at that battle, since she was at the time in isolated, Shogun-era Japan, fighting against the forces of the Japanese kami and demon shoguns. But Eastern and Central Europe would be protected by the forces of the Jesuit Order, the Gypsies and the man known only as the Godslayer or as a precious few in the Vatican and the Watcher's council knew him, Lord Robert La Morte. His power would never be equaled by a slayer, and clearly matched those of a hellgod, but yet his nemesis, the indomitable Dracula always eluded his attempts. The Key remained protected until 2000, when the hellgod Glory attempted to sacrifice the human manifestation of the Key for her own greedy schemes.  
  
La Morte, whose activities had been mostly relegated to the Old World, promptly boarded a Boeing 747 with one destination in mind: Los Angeles, California. His mission was to find the Key, protect her and terminate the dark slayer with extreme prejudice. He was also to join up with the forces of Micah Luke, an evangelist crusader who had been spreading his faith throughout the world. His oratory preached for a crusade against the demons and the forces of darkness, a cleansing of the world from evil. Even the Pope had fallen under the man's zealous fervor, and began supplying funds and soldiers to aid his cause. La Morte had once heard the man speak, and had been awed by his messages of an end to the demon afflicted world and a holy war upon darkness.  
  
Little did any of Luke's followers realize that their savior possessed rather ulterior motives behind his meritorious work, and his connection with a fellow student at a catholic seminary, before Micah had become dissatisfied with papal dogma and joined the evangelical church. His seminary friend's name was Caleb, but he kept the secret hidden from anyone and with the demise of him at the hands of slayer, Micah vowed to seek retribution upon the slayer and her friends who had meddled in his affairs. Yes, he would teach them a lesson, they would all see, especially the traitors Angelus and Spike. He rose from his kneeling position in front of the altar and prayed silently to the objects resting on the altar. One of them appeared to be a Christian cross, until one could realize that it had been tilted a hundred and eighty degrees, leaving it pointing downwards. Micah claimed to worship the God of heaven, but in reality he worshipped the darkness he claimed to fight against, only he planned to usurp the power of the old ones and claim his own among them. But first he would need to convince them all. 


	2. Act One

Roll Titles: The Damned  
  
Starring:  
  
Eliza Dushku as Faith  
  
Casey Affleck as Sir Robert La Morte  
  
Alexis Denisof as Wesley Wyndam-Pryce  
  
Alyson Hannigan as Willow Rosenberg  
  
David Boreanz as Angel  
  
And Seth Green as Daniel 'Oz' Osborne  
  
Michelle Trachtenberg as Dawn Summers  
  
Special Guest Stars:  
  
Anthony Stewart Head as Rupert Giles  
  
Nicholas Brendon as Alexander 'Xander' Harris  
  
D.B. Woodside as Principal Robin Wood  
  
Amy Acker as Winifred 'Fred' Burkle  
  
J. August Richards as Charles Gunn  
  
Andy Hallett as Lorne  
  
Iyari Limon as Kennedy  
  
D.B. Woodside as Principal Robin Wood  
  
Vincent Karthieser as Connor  
  
Jake Busey as Micah Luke  
  
And Sarah Michelle Gellar as Buffy Summers  
  
She stood in the window staring at the crimson orange of the sun fade into the horizon. It had been days since they all had left Sunnydale. The town burned to ashes in the wake of the destruction of the hellmouth. Tears filled her eyes as she remembered the weeks before, the dead slayers staring at her with lifeless eyes, the girls she shared the house with, the girls she commanded in battle and led them to their deaths and the slayer potentials it was her duty to protect. Many of them she had failed and she paid the price for her mistakes. She recalled Anya, the sarcastic blonde vengeance demon who shared her memories for years and fought alongside the slayer and the friends. Now she was gone, stabbed in the back by a bringer as she flailed at them with a baseball bat, smashing the skulls of demon and vampire alike. With her dying breath she cursed her tormentor, who became immolated in flames and charged screaming into a band of bringers, who all exploded into flame. Xander had been holding his own against several vampires and remained oblivious to his lover's death until a flustered Giles informed him on the bus.  
  
They all had fought well, Buffy, Faith and the Potentials struck down wave after wave of their foes, never flinching, never tiring and never retreating. Caleb fell to several swift blows from Buffy's scythe, his blood splattering over the vengeful petite blonde as she rained blow after blow into his exposed stomach. He collapsed on the ground and snarled that the First would win and "she would be his concubine in hell". This time, Buffy delivered no witty comeback but promptly decapitated him in full view of an enraged First. Then, the rest of it was a blur, Willow, Buffy and Faith kept the First at bay while Spike sealed the hellmouth and sacrificed himself to do so. Finally, after minutes of endless combat, the First was weakened enough for Buffy to administer the coup de grace while Willow cast a spell on the ethereal demon to make it physically vulnerable. The creature let out an ear-shattering wail as Buffy thrust her weapon into it while she ignored its pleas for mercy.  
  
The caverns collapsed as the First Evil breathed its last and Buffy and the scoobies, along with the surviving potentials, fled the environs. The whole town joined with the caverns and the earth swallowed it up in a matter of an hour after a tremendous earthquake. Luckily, no innocents joined the death of the hellmouth because Giles had the foresight to borrow a bus from the abandoned Sunnydale High School and he and Principal Wood were present to rescue a bloodied, bruised Xander, Willow, Dawn, Faith, Buffy and the rest of the potentials. Giles called Angel and the souled vampire promised to accommodate them for the time being. The fang gang finally met up with the Scooby gang and they all exchanged salutations. Giles was presently amazed to find a considerably different Wesley from the one that he remembered. This Wesley was a clever and brave warrior, and still retained his erudite Watcher's knowledge, but was a far cry from the pathetic wimp he once was. Gunn, Fred and Lorne exchanged greetings with the Sunnydale crowd, Faith cheerfully introducing them all. Buffy decided to skip the formal greetings and went upstairs to her room to watch the sunset. She spent the time in contemplation, reflecting on her successes and defeats, mostly her defeats as she painfully realized how Xander must secretly resent her, especially with his missing eye and how Willow, her best friend, turned on her after she lost all of the emotion and affection for her friends. The torment in hell had erased most of her humanity and replaced it with cold, calculated and a stern mind that only granted some vestige of sympathy towards Spike, who had ironically been the cause of much of her misery. She loved Spike, the platinum blonde vampire who captivated her fervor with his boyish charm, dangerous attitude and good looks, all of which had never been possessed by Angel nor Riley. Now she was in LA, and she knew had to confront her great passionate love from the past and she knew it would not be easy. Buffy shook her head and watched the crimson dusk turn into the pitch black of night. A voice spoke from behind her.  
  
"So you're Buffy."  
  
She whirled around to face a thin, haggard young man who looked remotely like Angel. He wasn't quite as tall as him nor possessed the dark visage nor the brooding nature within handsome features, but she felt somewhat curious and enticed by him.  
  
"Yes," she smiled. "I take it you must be the fabled Connor."  
  
He nodded, "Angel told me a lot about you."  
  
"I'm sure," her smile vanished, replaced with a cold, blank stare.  
  
Connor noticed her sudden irascibility and backed off. "Well, if you need anything, just call for me. I'll be back downstairs with Ang-"  
  
She interrupted him brusquely, "I know, I'll be down in a few minutes, just tell Angel and the others I have to think about something."  
  
Connor tried to feign politeness while he tried to ascertain the slayer's mysterious attitude towards him. The icy reception she had given him was clearly out of character for her, or at least from the amiable, caring and passionate Buffy his father always lauded her out to be. Well, he figured that people sometimes do change. Besides, he had enough to worry about. By obliterating Jasmine's skull with a swift blow from his fist, he knew he had killed Cordelia, the only person in the world that he cared about. He kept on tearing himself inside about it, although he secretly knew that in order to save the world from destruction, he had to deliver Cordelia from the mortal world, even if there was nothing in it for him. Angel and the others tried to console him, but he just ignored their superficial lamentations and brooded in his room.  
  
Downstairs, Giles sat in the study exchanging tales and discussing prophecies and other mystical phenomena with Wesley while Fred and Lorne cooked dinner for the others. Angel excused himself from the dining room and went out for a walk outside. He shuffled through the gardens surrounding the hotel and perused through the various flora, trying to distract his thoughts from Buffy with trivialities. Yet, no matter how much he exerted himself, he continued to drift to memories of Buffy. It was almost ironic how a souled vampire who once was renowned for his savage violence and his terrorizing Europe fell in love with the slayer bred to kill him and his ilk. He fled to Los Angeles because he arrived at the revelation that he could no longer pursue a healthy relationship with Buffy, not with his curse infringing upon their happiness. He collected a band of loyal followers and defeated a round of apocalypses, culminating in the betrayal of Cordelia and the ascension of Jasmine. It was only luck that allowed him to defeat her, but the same luck alienated Connor from him, not that he and Connor had ever been especially close. After all, his human son was part of a prophecy to destroy him and once tried to eradicate him, although through some sort of divine intervention, he was spared from a fate of endless torment, time and time again. He heard footsteps creep up behind him and sniffed, noting the strong scent of makeup and perfume.  
  
"Faith," he muttered, neglecting to turn around and face the dark slayer.  
  
"Hiya Angelface, long time no see," Faith grinned and caught up beside him. Angel couldn't help but notice her ostentatious regalia, complete with tight black leather pants and a blood red blouse that accentuated her physical beauty. Her fiery brown eyes bored deep into his. He stopped and faced her.  
  
"I'd like to be alone now," was all he said before he vanished.  
  
"Well how do you like that?" an exasperated Faith replied, gritting her teeth. "Still no respect after everything I've done, I'm the reason why those two aren't sucking the boots of the First, and they still pretend like I'm some trash skank."  
  
She continued walking, until she arrived at a deserted church. The architecture resembled a gothic cathedral and the façade was adorned with menacing gargoyles. Faith calmly walked inside to face an interior almost completely devoid of light save for several flickering candles that illuminated the saints. She remembered going to church in Boston, she always hated the perpetual boredom and constant droning of the pastor. After she ran away from home, she promised never to return to church, but this time, the abandoned prayer house seemed to entice her, welcome her to come in. She crept up past the aisles of overturned pews and looted coffers until she finally reached the altars where the prayer candles glowed in front of a disfigured Christ who stared at her with eyes full of mercy and compassion. Faith lit seven candles for the friends she had lost in the past few weeks, and then lit several more as she recalled the days before she left prison, the days when she was the evil slayer, the betrayer who inflicted misery upon her friends and fought for the dark side.  
  
The memories of the horrible acts she had committed returned to her head. The memories of Mayor Wilkins and all the innocent people she murdered to satiate his lust for power and her lust for acceptance. She betrayed Buffy, with whom she had a powerful friendship and made enemies of all of her friends. She bitterly recalled the climactic fight between them when Buffy put her into a coma. Then she returned to cause more pain and misery and to steal Buffy's body and inflict even greater misery upon her friends. It all came to naught, all those delusions of grandeur and the bitter pride that existed within her. Her arrogance had led her to her own fate, and Faith knew that. She tried to redeem herself, but even though some awarded her sympathy and gratitude, others continued to show repugnance for her, especially Buffy, with whom Faith had tried to reinvigorate the friendship. She knew her sister slayer tried to grant her forgiveness, but some recalcitrant side of Buffy which had emerged after her second resurrection, inhibited her from displaying any overt sign of it to Faith, even after the defeat of the First.  
  
Her formerly stern face began filled with tears and frustration as Faith lashed out at the statues around her, obliterating statues, overturning pews and denting the walls with a furious anger. She fought back the tears streaming down her face and finally relented, collapsing in front of the altar. She looked up at the crucified Christ and reflected for a moment in the serene calm of the church. It was all her fault and she knew that the Scooby gang would still consider her an enemy. Her confused mind tried to assemble thoughts of how she would charm and convince the others that she was truly trustworthy and a capable leader like Buffy. Her impetuosity had also gotten potentials killed, and almost allowed Caleb to murder the rest while she lay helplessly wounded in the caverns. Luckily, Buffy and the others arrived just in time to defeat Caleb and secure a victory from the jaws of defeat. Finally, she knew, she couldn't reveal her true emotions and the angst that plagued her, that would be too out of character for her. She had to remain herself, but she knew she had to try and convince the others, at least someway.  
  
Then, she realized a presence behind her and whirled around to face a black figure standing several feet behind her. He was slightly above average height, taller than Xander, Connor or Spike not quite as tall as Angel or Gunn and had long, flowing black hair and a matching beard. His cold blue eyes met with her remorseful brown ones and she felt as if there was some mystical connection between her and the armored figure. He was dressed in a black breastplate covered by a black cloak and in flowing black slacks. She then noticed the Celtic cross upon his breastplate and she suddenly became filled with dread.  
  
"Looks like I got myself a peeping tom," she chuckled, "if you came here for a fight, I'm ready to deliver you a whooping unlike that you've seen before, demon."  
  
The dark figure burst into laughter, "demon, such a trivial observation from a slayer. I suppose I can't be a chooser and expect some decent insight from a slayer, but allow me to introduce myself. You can call me La Morte, at least that's what you will call me when you're begging for mercy from my blade." His eyes narrowed as he drew his sword, bringing the several feet of steel from the scabbard and into full view.  
  
Light glinted off of its naked blade, giving off a red aura. Faith was startled and intrigued by the stranger, "well are you going to persist with the old, I'm black and evil and all cliché, or can we get to the fighting?"  
  
"As you wish, Faith. It'll be a pleasure striking down a slayer. I don't think I've had the excitement for oh, around two hundred and forty years, the last one was a bit of a pathetic waste of my time, so I hope you'll be a bit more.challenging. It's pity though, I might have liked you," he answered, a smile crossing his face.  
  
He then withdrew an AR-15 assault rifle from his cloak while clutching the sword in another hand and opened fire. Instinctively, Faith dove behind the altar while bullets struck the place where she was once standing. La Morte moved to the right, hoping to flank the altar and catch the rogue slayer off guard. He emptied the rest of the clip, but Faith ran from her position, dodging bullets as if they were darts and dove behind the pews. He angrily threw away the assault rifle and grasped his bastard sword in both hands. It had come down to this. He cried some unrecognizable war cry and rushed towards the pews where Faith was crouching.  
  
Faith rose and rushed towards him with an even greater speed, her eyes the embodiment of rage. She effortlessly dodged the first slash and punched him right in the stomach. La Morte calmly absorbed the blow and lashed out with his leg, knocking Faith to the ground. She was briefly stunned and then she performed a backflip to evade the edge of the broadsword which buried in the carpet. She then jumped up and delivered a smart upper cut to his cheeks while blocking a retaliatory blow from his free hand. She then twisted his arm and headbutted him, knocking him several feet away from her, his right hand still clutching the sword.  
  
"Looks like I was a bit more challenging than you thought," Faith snarled as she crouched into a fighting stance. "Care to continue, or are you not man enough to duel with a defenseless, little girl like me?"  
  
"Tsk tsk, getting cocky are we?" asked La Morte, whose blue eyes suddenly turned red with bloodlust. He dived to the left and hurled a knife from his open hand, which Faith dodged with a somersault. La Morte rushed up to her and brought down his sword in what he thought would be the final blow, but instead he was greeted with a crushing blow from her foot to his head and he went sprawling, the sword flying from his grip.  
  
Faith grinned, "I just kicked your ass, La Morgue or whatever-your- name-is, and to tell the truth, I would kill you right now with your own sword, but I have to patch up some business with some old friends, so I hope you won't feel that I've leaving you too abruptly." She chuckled and left the church in a swaggering fashion, with her mind firmly set on returning to the hotel and informing the others about the would-be assassin.  
  
La Morte rose from the floor and dusted himself off, he retrieved his sword and the AR-15 and put a fresh clip in before he holstered it.  
  
"Well that was unexpected," he muttered to himself, "it seems she has all the slayer powers up and running, but no matter, I'll kill her next time."  
  
He stayed to the shadows as he followed her, discretely keeping considerable distance between them. She was the first person to have bested him in a fight for a long, long time. He almost felt attracted to her, enticed by her witty personality complete with a ravishing physical beauty equaled by few. It seemed so ironic, but he ignored such passionate affections and concentrated on destroying her. After all, she had allied with the demons he was sworn to oppose and she was a threat to the Key, so she must be destroyed, at least that's what his orders were.  
  
His thoughts shifted to that of his last love, the affair with the daughter of the monster who betrayed him and turned him into the abomination he was now. She became one of the undead like her father, and he struck her down amidst the chaos of the Napoleonic era. It had taken centuries, but he had found out where she had taken refuge in, some remote castle in France. He stormed the palace by himself, slashing and shooting his way through the vast force of Frenchmen and vampires that guarded the castle until he finally arrived at the keep. Her lover, one of Napoleon's henchmen was easily dispatched after a brief swordfight. His fencing saber was no match for La Morte's claymore and Robert continued until he finally found Antanasia. The fight between the abomination and the master vampire countless seesawed back and forth until finally he gained the upper hand and decapitated her when she put down her guard.  
  
He promised never to love anyone after her betrayal but he found himself strangely attracted to this girl.this slayer. He failed to recall a prophecy which talked about a man born of angel and devil, who would fall in love with the corrupted slayer and turn her into an instrument of good, but he had no idea of his upcoming role. 


	3. Act Two

Willow greeted Buffy as she arrived at the lobby of the hotel. The redhead was smiling and buoyant as usual, or at least was concealing her emotions well.  
  
"Buffy! Where have you been? We were wondering when you would finally come down..I." Willow's statement was interrupted by a solemn Buffy who just continued walking past her, without even exchanging a look.  
  
Willow ran up to Buffy, trying to maintain the conversation. "Anyway, you missed a great dinner! Lorne and Gunn were telling us all about the apocalypse they had to fight off and we were telling them of our adventures battling the First."  
  
Buffy stopped and turned around to face Willow. "I can't really talk now Wil, a lot of things are on my mind and I just need to be alone."  
  
Willow nodded, perhaps now was not the time to engage in a pleasant conversation. She noticed how Buffy's face looked grimmer than it had been for the past several weeks, even with the First. She sensed fear, frustration and anxiety within Buffy's voice. Willow backed off and walked towards the study where Giles and Wesley were catching up.  
  
Buffy sighed and walked out of the hotel, ignoring the puzzled looks of any of her friends or Angel's. She stepped out into the black night and dark streets of LA. The isolation, the darkness, the sense of uncertainty were all she needed now. She knew nothing could ever be the same after Spike died and with Angel, well, they could never love each other. Angel had found others to vent his lust upon as had she. They could never be reconciled and she knew it. For now she just needed release, release from the friends who abandoned her, the friends who rejected her, the friends she had saved so many times and the friends who almost seemed like a family to her. Now, they meant nothing to her and neither did Angel. She shook her head as she tried to clear her thoughts, every moment stepping deeper and deeper into the dark threshold of LA.  
  
She arrived in an abandoned quarter of the city. Shadows lurked across every building and the few unbroken flights cast a fluorescent haze on the street. Broken glass and garbage lay strewn across the desolate wasteland. Windows were boarded up, doors were grated shut and condemnation notices seemed to be on every building. It reminded her of Sunnydale before the apocalypse, a once prosperous, booming area now empty and abandoned. It was the perfect nightspot for demonic activity and sure enough, she spotted a tense situation in need of resolution.  
  
A homeless man was surrounded by three vampires. The tallest one, a punk dressed in tattered jeans and a black t-shirt stooped over the bleeding, defenseless old man. The leader grinned and his visage changed from human to demonic. His yellow eyes flashed as he ran his tongue across his fangs.  
  
"Delicious," he smirked as he stooped to tear out the wino's throat. Just then, he felt something bury itself in his back. His hands groped to discover a wooden object buried in back that had pierced his heart. He turned around to face his killer and instantly decayed into dust as he came face to face with a short blonde in a red leather jacket.  
  
"Anyone else want some," she grinned as she seized the stake from the pavement. Her blue eyes flashed with bloodlust as she crouched in a fighting stance.  
  
One of the vampires rushed at her, snarling and with arms outstretched. He intended to dispatch her with a series of quick blows but his thoughts were interrupted by a swift kick to his groin that sent him sprawling. A thrust from a stake permanently ended his conscious thoughts.  
  
The sole remaining vampire stood riveted to the ground as he watched the slayer dust his buddies. He backed off, his arms raised in a peaceful gesture. However, Buffy learned to never take prisoners and she strutted up to the astonished vampire and snapped his neck. The vampire fell to the ground in a pile of dust and she helped the old man to his feet. The wino was dressed in frayed combat fatigues and a bloodied shirt. His gray eyes stared at her in amazement and gratitude.  
  
"You saved my life!" he exclaimed before his savior vanished. He took care to remember her appearance and he staggered down the alley ignoring the pain. Micah had promised him salvation if he completed his assignment, which he had. Now, the enemy had a face and his duty was to inform Micah and his brothers and sisters. Soon the demons would fear the humans they preyed on and the heretics would perish with them, starting with the slayer. Yes, salvation was at hand, he thought as he finally reached an enormous church. Its façade was decorated with stained glass windows and an immense steeple. He threw open the doors and meet the faces of a congregation of hundreds.  
  
"She's here," he spoke.  
  
Meanwhile, back in the hotel, Willow, Kennedy, Gunn, Fred, Lorne Giles and Wesley were discussing matters in the study. Giles sat on a chair, perusing through one of the tomes he saved from the destruction of Sunnydale. Wesley and the others stood, exchanging glances or making small talk.  
  
"So any news about our friends at Wolfram and Hart?" piped up Giles as he interrupted his reading.  
  
Gunn shook his head, "nope, not since Jasmine. They're place is completely abandoned. It's as if something scared them off."  
  
"Yes, it's quite odd. The peculiarity of the situation seems to reflect that there may be an ulterior force manipulating us all," Wesley spoke, his voice giving a sense of anxiety.  
  
"Caleb said something about a champion greater than him. He promised this would be a "beast with ten horns and seven heads, resembling a leopard but with a mouth of a lion" that would transform the world into a kingdom of evil. He claimed none would know the identity of this monster until it was too later and he would be so powerful that not even a slayer could stop him," Willow said, her voice wavering. Kennedy put her arm around Willow to comfort the Wiccan, Willow's expression changed to a smile as she stared at her lover. The others however did not share in the tender moment.  
  
"I don't know about you guys, but I think we've faced so many apocalypses that this jibe seems like the same-old, same-old prophecies about doom and the end of world and blah-blah," interjected Lorne, trying to create some mirth out of the gravity of the situation.  
  
"Lorne, this could be a completely serious issue. We as always, cannot fathom what or who we're up against, so the best plan is to research, Wesley do you recall anything of this magnitude?" Giles spoke in a grave and stern voice.  
  
Wesley shook his dead, as did Gunn and Lorne. Fred's brow furrowed as she tried to remember something.  
  
"That sentence sounded vaguely familiar, but I can't quite remember," mused a puzzled Fred.  
  
Their conversation was suddenly interrupted by a hurtling object that crashed through the doors, raining glass around her. The object collided with the floor, leaving a few traces of blood. It was Faith, who was covered in bruises and scratches. 


	4. Act Three

Faith rose up and brushed herself off. She was covered in scratches and her clothing was all askew or in some parts torn. Willow, who was closest to the slayer, rushed over to the dark haired woman and scanned her to make sure she was okay.  
  
"Nice to see you, I got ambushed by some Jesus freak with some serious firepower and superhuman strength."  
  
"What happened?" Giles ran over to Faith, followed by the others who had been joined by a curious Xander, Connor and Dawn. The group circled around her, displaying a sense of curiosity at Faith's encounter.  
  
"A fanatic armed with enough weaponry to wipe out Iraq attacked me while I was on patrol. He was dressed in this black armor and he said his name was La Morte. I bested him, but nothing seemed to hurt him and he chased me all the way back here. He was very resourceful and powerful, I mean this guy had fighting skills to make Caleb look like a scrawny wimp by comparison."  
  
"Are you saying this man was human?" inquired Wesley with a skeptical look on his face.  
  
"He looked like it until he went all bloodlust on me. His eyes turned a bright red and he fought with a superhuman strength and demonic savagery that I've never seen before. I beat him, but he sure gave me a serious challenge and worst of all, he knows where we are."  
  
Giles nodded, "Willow, look up any information about this fellow on the web while Wesley and I will scour through the tomes and try to ascertain anything we can find."  
  
"I'll check out the demon bars and try to see what I can obtain," Lorne headed past them towards the exit.  
  
Connor interrupted the group as they broke up to pursue their duties except for a puzzled Xander.  
  
"I remember this guy when I was in the hell dimension. The powers always talked about the black knight born of human, demon and angel. I never believed it until Faith just talked about her encounter with him," Connor's face was grim.  
  
"Did you just say 'born of human, demon and angel'?" asked Xander.  
  
"Yes, it was some failed ritual but it left him, a mighty paladin with both demonic and angelic powers. Unfortunately, I don't remember too much but I'm sure he's highly dangerous and powerful. We shouldn't risk going out on patrols tonight with this guy around."  
  
Faith, "I can take him, I mean he wasn't invincible or anything. At least that's what I think. I'm all up for taking up a group and seeking him out. I'm sure he has some information about the new apocalypse."  
  
Connor answered, "I agree with Faith, I think some of us should stay here and research while others go out and try to find this La Mort."  
  
Gunn had disappeared off to the back rooms where the gang kept its weaponry. He returned and deposited them on the floor. Faith picked up a pair of curved blades, Xander seized an axe along with Gunn while Connor hefted a sword Faith nodded and the group marched out of the hotel. Wesley, Fred and Giles ran to the library collection and began scrutinizing through the vast array of tomes. Willow initiated a search on the web with Kennedy sitting beside her, watching Willow utilize her magic to hack through the restricted webpages she used as resources on demonic mythology and activity.  
  
Meanwhile, Buffy decided to walk back to the hotel. She walked through a park as empty as the ghetto she spent most of the night ridding of vampiric activity. She passed by a beautiful fountain surrounded by benches and bushes, creating an eerily pristine sight amidst the dark urban environment. She felt a presence behind her and recognized the footsteps.  
  
Angel stood beside her. He tried to form his speech in his mind before opening his mouth to the petite woman beside him. They had been lovers so long ago and still were, but he tried to forget the rift that occurred between them. The pain he inflicted upon her he knew could never be mended and he was sorry, but no apology could compensate for his reprehensible actions.  
  
"Buffy, I know you probably hate me or at least don't want to remember me, but I'm sorry for leaving you. I had no choice. I still love you, you just weren't here and I'm sorry about Cordelia and the others, I honestly wish I could make it up to you" he stammered.  
  
"If you love me, then you would leave me in peace," she answered him in a cold, emotionless tone.  
  
"You've changed," he commented.  
  
"It hurts deeply when your friends betray you. When you loose everything you hold dear. What's the victory in that?" she turned around to face him, her blue eyes meeting his.  
  
"I know what you mean," he answered. Angel felt the feelings return, the lust, the desire for the luscious beauty standing beside him. She was his true love, and his only. He felt his control over his emotions begin to snap as his arm crept around her. Buffy allowed him to pull her closer to him, her mind giving way to the needs of her body.  
  
"Angel, I can't do this," she tried to resist, pushing against his strong grip, but to avail.  
  
"I can't let you go," he responded, his eyes saddened and his face twisted with raw, tender emotion.  
  
"I know," she answered. She stopped resisting and clutched him as her lips connected with his and they engaged in a passionate kiss. The vampire and the slayer embraced each other and rolled to the ground. Buffy undid her shirt while tossing around in the grass with him. Nothing bothered her now. She had nothing except Angel and she knew it was time she'd forgotten Spike and Riley. Memories of them became nonexistent as she engaged in passionate lovemaking with Angel. She knew she must prevent Angel from achieving a moment of true content, but superficial love could at least allow them to express their fervor.  
  
Yards away from them, standing in a copse of trees, Robert La Morte watched them. His black cloak and armor blended in with its surroundings while his haggard, gaunt face stared in fascination at the scene in front of him. He grasped his bearded, scarred face with one hand in contemplation. He recalled the dreaded vampire Angelus who terrorized the world. He was sent to hunt down and dispatch the scourge at the orders of the Pope himself, but the elusive predator had always evaded him. Ironically, La Morte assumed Angel's old profession and terrorized the continent at the orders of the church. He slaughtered any villages that displayed any sign of heresy or any protestant leader who tried to launch an uprising against the Catholics. Thousands died by the hand of his blade, but he never felt any compassion for them, but now he seemed to feel a tinge of sympathy for the short blonde and her taller vampire lover. To another side, it seemed almost pathetic how the dreaded vampire he had hunted for so long was now passionately in love with a slayer and now fought his own kind for the sake of humanity. He decided to leave the lovers in the park and walked back towards the Baptist church located in the lower east side of the city The Pope told him personally that once he arrived in LA, he would take orders from only one man: Micah Luke.  
  
In the highways outside the city, a motorcycle sounded as it raced towards its destination. Its rider, a short, slender built man stared at the route ahead of him through sunglasses. His purple hair danced in the wind while his thoughts were filled with memories of the friends he left behind in Sunnydale years ago. It would be an interesting homecoming, Oz thought as he drove towards LA. After all, Sunnydale was gone and he heard all about Buffy's death and resurrection, the First and the potentials. He figured the gang needed his help during its relocation and he was tired of living a bohemian life in Australia, roaming the landscape for gigs and avoiding the populace on full moon nights. Oz was sure that his friends would give him a warm welcome, but he was slightly apprehensive about Willow, after all, she was now a lesbian and had already lost her lover. Well, he could at least give it a try, he was a different man anyway. 


	5. Act Four

"Found anything yet?" inquired Principal Wood as he stared at the redhead fiddling with her computer.  
  
"Nope, nothing at all," sighed Willow who was scanning the screen. "The best I found was a vague reference to a black knight but that was it."  
  
"How odd," spoke up Giles, who had been perusing through the tomes. "You would have to think that there would be some information on this fellow, but I'm afraid my search has turned up nothing as well."  
  
"Nor mine," Wesley muttered as he strutted into the room, tossing the tome he was reading aside as he plopped down on the couch by the table where Willow and Kennedy were sitting.  
  
"Well, looks like we're fresh out of options unless anyone has any suggestions," commented Willow, who sat back in her chair.  
  
The room was silent until Kennedy's eyes suddenly widened as a thought crossed her mind. She rose to her feet and spoke loudly, "Faith said the man was some kind of a religious fanatic. Do you think the Catholic Church would have some dossier on him?"  
  
Giles smiled, "I'm sure not all zealots are connected with the Church in Rome. After all, the watcher's council has heard little of them battling demonic activity for at least a hundred years, so I highly doubt this search will procure any information."  
  
"That might not be necessarily accurate," Willow answered as her fingers flew away on the keys and she whispered magic to aid her hacking past the papal security. "Guys, I suggest you come look at this," her voice sounded grave. Wood, Giles, Wesley and Kennedy clustered beside Willow's computer and examined the dossier in front of them.  
  
The extensive page documented a ruthless assassin who had cleansed entire villages in the name of God. He was a product of a failed ritual to turn him into a demonic champion, instead he was turned into a dark warrior for the light. However, the church had abused his power and the onlookers were sickened by the details of his atrocities. Thousands of innocents died during his savage raids throughout Renaissance Europe and his nefarious activities had persisted until the early twentieth century when they suddenly decreased in number. The site also revealed the extent of his extraordinary power, how he was able to summon both black magic and holy power at will. Nevertheless, his activities weren't all for the cause of evil, after all, he single-handedly had curtailed at least a dozen potential apocalypses and had driven Angellus, Drusilla and Spike underground.  
  
Fred walked in to find the others huddled over Willow's computer screen.  
  
"What's going on?" she asked.  
  
"We have a serious problem," answered Willow who didn't even look up from the screen.  
  
Fred walked over to the group and covered her mouth with her hand as she read over the bloody details of La Morte's history.  
  
"Dear God, this man could be the end of us all," Wesley said in a horrified voice.  
  
Giles nodded, "we need to inform Faith and tell her what she's up against." Kennedy ran over to the phone and hurriedly dialed a number.  
  
Faith, Connor, Gunn and Xander walked down the empty street lit only by the pale light of the moon. Not a single lamp shone in the windows surrounding them and shadows covered every doorway and alley, giving an eerie sense of foreboding to the place. There was nothing alive or dead in this place, it was just simply void of anything.  
  
"I got a bad feeling about this," said Xander as he clutched his axe with a feeling of nervousness and anxiety he hadn't encountered in weeks.  
  
"I second that," muttered Gunn as he unsheathed his axe and carried it in both hands.  
  
"You guys are just wimps," Faith laughed as she strutted ahead of them. "There ain't nothing here that worries me. I mean there aren't any vampires out tonight, so what's there to worry about?" She turned around and gave them a sweet sarcastic smile, then turned back around and walked forward.  
  
Connor rolled his eyes at the excessive brashness of the black-haired slayer. He slung his sword over his shoulders and plodded onward, noting the anxiety of the other two men and the arrogance of the woman. Even though he tried to conceal a rising fear within him, he knew it was apparent.  
  
Xander and Gunn stared at each other and followed her, each scanning the buildings adjacent to their patrol.  
  
Meanwhile, figures watched from the alleys and windows. These were not vampires nor demons, these were just simple human beings. But these weren't the ignorant everyday denizens of Los Angeles, in fact these were the followers of Micah. These people were the homeless and the unemployed whom the demons had been preying on for decades. This time, they were going to change history and strike out at their tormentors, but only now their duties were to watch and listen. Then, when the time arrived, they would strike.  
  
They crept back into darkness and vanished in the direction of the church.  
  
Xander's cellphone started ringing, startling all three with its melodious sound. Xander grabbed the phone and answered it. His ear connected with the hysterical voice of Kennedy ordering the four to return back to the hotel and there was something dangerous out there. He assured her nothing was wrong and he hung the phone up.  
  
"What's up?" inquired Gunn.  
  
"Bad news, this La Morte character seems to be the new big bad. And believe me, Kennedy told me a few stories about how ruthless this guy is. Honestly, I suggest we should be slightly prudent and beat a hasty retreat back to the hotel."  
  
"Sounds good," nodded Gunn, whose confidence had all but vanished.  
  
"Come on guys, we can take him," grinned Faith.  
  
"I'm afraid that might be a bit of an overstatement," a voice answered her.  
  
The four whirled around to face a dark armored figure concealed in the shadows in front of them. The figure stood forward, revealing the familiar scraggly beard, flowing black hair and scarred face. His brown eyes glistened with hatred and bloodlust.  
  
"Sir Robert La Morte, enchanted to meet you all."  
  
His sword gleamed in the moonlight giving off a purple glow.  
  
Without saying a word, Faith drew her blades and charged at him. 


	6. Envoi

He stared at the hundreds of people standing in the pews in front of him. Their bedraggled, dirty faces stared back at him. He was their redeemer, their deliverer from the land of Goshen. The land of Goshen cast them out onto the streets as fodder for the supernatural forces. But no longer, their reign would come to full eclipse and his flock would be delivered. He smiled with such thoughts. His message would be spread across the world and the demons would cringe at the sound of his name. The Pope now listened to him and the best soldiers of the church were now under his banner. Tomorrow night, the world would be redeemed and the city of Zion would be created. His thoughts were interrupted by the calls of his ministry.  
  
Micah Luke was a tall man, standing at about six foot three and with gelled blonde hair that pointed upwards and a small beard that lined his chin. His cold blue eyes radiated with fervor as he railed from the pulpit.  
  
"The time has come for the oppressed and the downtrodden to inherit the earth from the arrogant servants of Satan! The city of Zion shall be brought to the mortal plane and the damned shall be brought to justice! God has instructed us all to carry on his righteous crusade against the forces of darkness and we shall heed his call. The infidelity of our society shall be destroyed by righteousness and piety and you shall bring it to this city. Yes friends, we must start tomorrow and torrents of blood from our enemies shall flow into the gutters of these streets. The earth shall tremble before us and everyone shall know the power of Micah Luke!" His voice raised a crescendo and reverberated across the church to the frenzied crowds of followers.  
  
The followers chanted his name as they raised their weapons ranging from clubs, knives, axes and swords to spears and pikes. Besides the ragtag ranks of his brethren, a group of black coated men flanked him. The light from the candles reflected on the gold crosses adorning their jackets and on the long swords they clutched in one hand and on the guns holstered beside them. These were the disciplined members of the Jesuit order who had been sent to heed his call from Rome. They would fight to the death and were better armed than the rest of his followers. Yes, Micah grinned, he knew he would have to strike first against the Slayer and Angellus. Those two had been harassing his flock and murdered his poor blood brother, Caleb. Caleb was a fool to align himself with evil, but he was still a brother to Micah. They would be brought to justice and after they would fall, all evil and would bow before him, especially the haughty First and the irritating Powers that Be; and he would rule the world. Of course, he first had to complete a ritual tonight that would render him with the power of the archangels at his disposal. The roar died down as he walked into the back of the church to begin the ritual.  
  
Meanwhile, Buffy and Angel were in the park discussing their relationship. They had consummated their love, but barriers still existed between them. Angel noted Buffy had seemed strangely cold that night, as if her life was devoid of all joy and didn't seem to display any true affection before him.  
  
"It's Spike, isn't it?" he withdrew his hand from her shoulder.  
  
"Yes," she answered him in tears, her blue eyes saddened as she remembered the loss of her other lover, the blonde vampire with a cocky disposition.  
  
"I know you can't love me and you love.him, but I just wish that we were still in Sunnydale before any of this came about."  
  
"Those were the days. Before college, before you left for LA, before Faith, before the First, before Willow went lesbian, before she tried to destroy the world, before everything, I almost wish that I wasn't a slayer. Then my life would have been perfect, no vampires, no watchers, no demons, no apocalypses; just a loving mother and devoted friends, maybe even a dark, handsome boyfriend," she smiled at Angel.  
  
Angel tried to smile back, but Buffy turned around. "But I guess I can't really determine my life, in fact, it seems I have nothing. Spike's gone, my friends aren't the same friends they used to be, Giles is different, you're different, heck, even Faith's reformed. It's as if my life's a failure. I stopped the end of the world from happening so many times I can't remember, but I won't even be remembered for it. I have no legacy. My name will just vanish into nowhere after you all are gone. The forces of good will just find another slayer, another champion to lead the cause of light."  
  
"Buffy don't say that," Angel tried to interrupt her, but she ignored him.  
  
"Spike was the only thing I had in the end. And now he's gone. There's nothing here for me, Angel and I know sooner or later, I have to say goodbye to everyone."  
  
"But what about Dawn?"  
  
"You and the others can take care of her, although I'm sure she can handle herself now. In fact, none of you need me. It's best I just pursue my own path and fight evil across the world but without you all. I have no future here or with you. And I'm sorry Angel, but this is how it has to be," Buffy sighed and walked away, leaving Angel alone in the darkness of the park.  
  
Angel gritted his teeth and savagely attacked a nearby tree, ripping apart branches and overturning shrubs in a fit of rage. For the first time in years he actually felt he had a chance with Buffy. Now, memories of her were almost nonexistent and she had changed. Spike was her man now and she could care less about him, oh and he was her true love and all but it didn't matter to her. Nope, Buffy always had to do everything by herself. He finished his attack and surveyed the devastation he had wrought in the park. Sighing loudly, he walked off into the darkness back towards the hotel.  
  
The clang of steel against steel reverberated across the desolate streets as Faith and La Morte clashed. The taller man blocked Faith's attack and tried to strike her under her guard with his free hand, but she delivered a slice on his hand with her other blade. He silently yelped and withdrew his blade, nursing his wound.  
  
Faith grinned, licking the blood from the blade. "Tasty," she smiled as she tensed up for his attack. La Morte yelled a loud battlecry and put all his might into the next blow which sent one of Faith's blades clattering onto the street. Faith delivered an uppercut and sent her adversary reeling. She ran over towards her other blade still holding the other one in her right hand. La Morte chased after her and kicked her in the back, sending her sprawling against the pavement. He brought the sword down and only Faith's quick reflexes saved her from decapitation. She buried the knife in his arm and kicked upwards, knocking him away from her as she searched for the other blade. La Morte staggered backwards and gritted his teeth as he pulled the blade from his arm. Faith grabbed the blade and jumped back up, taunting her foe.  
  
"I'm still five by five, babe. But I reckon you're a bit worse for the wear. And did anyone tell you that you're ugly? Well, if not I would have to say that besides that, you fight like a girl," she grinned back at her adversary.  
  
Surprisingly, he fired right back. "I'm just getting started, wench. I've killed a dozen of your kind and I'm ready to make it thirteen."  
  
"Thirteen's an unlucky number, I'd watch out if I were you."  
  
La Morte resumed his attack.  
  
Xander and Gunn watched the battle riveted to their feet. The impressive strength of the dark knight made them slightly apprehensive about intervening in the fray. Connor spoke up to them.  
  
"I suggest we regroup at the hotel. If Faith wants to get herself killed, well, then let her," Connor whispered to Xander.  
  
Xander muttered yes and bolted, followed in hot pursuit by Connor and Gunn, who abandoned Faith and La Morte to their duel.  
  
"Looks like your friends left you, I guess they're a little smarter," grinned La Morte as he smashed Faith against a wall.  
  
"Some friends," Faith replied and she blocked his sword with her one remaining blade. She gritted her teeth as his strength overcame hers. He knocked her blade away and seized her throat with his one hand and brought the point of the sword against her throat with the other. His hot breath blew into her face as his face came closer to hers. She tried to resist him, but to no avail.  
  
La Morte smiled, he was savoring the moment. Soon, this slayer would be another trophy to his collection. But for once, his bloodlust was interrupted by other feelings. Human feelings. The attraction he felt towards the black-haired slayer in black hot pants and a maroon top suddenly interrupted his thoughts and he wavered for a second. He suddenly sheathed his sword but maintained his grip on the slayer. "What are you doing?" Faith yelled as she watched him sheathe the sword, her eyes lit with fear.  
  
"I've always liked bad girls," he grinned, "but you're the first I've wanted." With that, he connected his lips with hers and kissed her. His tongue entered her mouth and he brought his face against hers, his eyes closed with passion.  
  
Faith tried to resist, but even her hatred dissipated and her hands reached around his shoulders in an embrace when seconds before they were struggling against him. The two embraced and consummated their sudden passion in the desolate streets.  
  
A figure watched them from about fifty feet away. His purple hair stood out in the moonlight and his short, slender frame concealed a powerful spirit inside him.  
  
"Oh hell," Oz exclaimed. 


End file.
